


(entranced by) the way we move

by kunimi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Come Eating, Come as Lube, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, M/M, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Timeskip, Wall Sex, and the feelings are a work in progress wrt being acknowledged, for that matter there's a LOT of crying. in a good way. but crying, i hate the word creampie but. for the sake of accuracy. there we go, i mean there's feelings but there's also nothing happening here except feelings and sex, kind of... nobody catches them but that's definitely a theme, technically they're fwb but they're fwb with FEELINGS, these tags are a fucking wreck sorry i kept remembering things that should probably be tagged, this is nearly 5k of just. fucking. oh my god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28286625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunimi/pseuds/kunimi
Summary: Suna finally pulls back, and his eyes are a little wild when he looks at Atsumu, but he looks satisfied. Breathless, even.“Look at you,” he says, almost awed, and then turns Atsumu by the shoulders to look in the mirror.Holy shit.He lookswrecked.okay, so suna's a dick sometimes, but he's also got some really hot ideas. and, well, atsumu's always been game for any challenge. especially when suna's looking at him like that.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 17
Kudos: 228
Collections: stories that touched me





	(entranced by) the way we move

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bublitz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bublitz/gifts), [yakus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yakus/gifts).



> this morning, i woke up extremely grumpy that i was still sick, and also needing to write fluff tonight. jkhfdsjkjh so i started writing this to expel the irritated energy so i could just fluff, and, well, things quickly spiralled and now there's nearly 5k of atsusuna sex
> 
> thank you so much to jade for reading the first 3k of this and convincing me to post!
> 
> i've read over everything, but disclaimer that i wrote this on my phone and i'm sick, so there's a chance some typos might have slipped through. i'm very sorry if so!
> 
> dedicated to iris & vic for letting me tell them about my atsusuna mirror sex wishes, and vic for straight up encouraging it to be written and iris for letting me yell about it during my various writing moments of it today

“Rin…” Atsumu whines, breathing heavy, but all Suna does behind him is chuckle.

“Mm?” he asks, skimming his fingers down Atsumu’s spine, mapping the grooves of his shoulder blades, stroking the lines of his muscles as his back flexes. Atsumu feels fucking on fire. He shudders.

“I can’t—” Atsumu tries, before breaking off into a low whine when Suna thrusts again. The movement pushes Atsumu’s face even harder up against the cool glass. It’s almost bruising, but the cooler temperature is a relief, because everything else is burning up. He feels like a livewire, about to go off, and Suna just keeps fucking prodding at him and picking him apart, like he wants him to _explode_ —

“You look so pretty like this,” Suna says, and Atsumu can _hear_ the smirk in his voice, but the praise just makes his dick throb. Fuck, he’s so hard. Suna leans down, with his stupid fuckin’ bendy torso, and tilts his head to lap at Atsumu’s nipple, which makes Atsumu shudder so hard that his dick whacks against the bench. He cries out, but Suna ignores him, that bastard, just keeps his torso contorted and his _tongue_ on Atsumu’s _nipple_ and what the _fuck_ , Suna, why’d you have to be so flexible for? Atsumu, deliriously, thinks that he was wrong in high school to think Suna’s flexibility was only useful for volleyball. Clearly, its real purpose is to fuck Atsumu and—he jolts against the bench again, eyes tearing up at the force of the impact against his swollen, sensitive dick— _torture_ him, Suna, fuck fuck fuck—

He doesn’t realise he said any of that out loud until Suna _finally_ leaves his nipple alone and unwraps himself from his position curling around Atsumu’s torso, laughing as he does so.

“You’re so needy,” he says, amused, because he’s always had a shitty sense of humour, _why_ is Atsumu so fuckin’ hot for him again? And then Suna’s hands are skimming his back again, thrusting even harder into him, not even bothering to anchor his hands to Atsumu’s hips when he can just use the mirror Atsumu’s face is shoved up against as leverage, and oh, yeah, that’s why. Because Suna’s a fuckin’ dick, but he’s got some really hot ideas, and the way he’s fucking into Atsumu right now makes Atsumu want to sob into the mirror.

“You’re so gorgeous, stretched out just for me,” Suna says, _finally_ putting one of his hands on Atsumu’s leaking cock. Atsumu almost cries into the glass. Suna keeps thrusting, speeding up to a punishing pace as he swipes his thumb across the head of Atsumu’s dick. “You look so good, so hot, Japan’s National Setter bent over in a bathroom just to let me fuck him—and seeing myself fuck you is so good, it’s like there’s two of you, seeing you in that mirror, like I’m watching us on film, like anyone could pause and play where they want—”

He punctuates that comment with a light graze of Atsumu’s cock from filed nails, and Atsumu can feel his tears pooling against the glass. He can’t see anything, his face is too close to the mirror, all he gets is the cool sensation, but hearing Suna talk about how hot they look together – about how it looks like a fuckin’ _video_ – Atsumu’s never thought of himself as an exhibitionist—never thought he cared enough about anyone else’s presence to find their eyes hot—but the idea of the whole world being able to see him like this makes his entire body flush red.

“Fuck,” Suna says, almost reverent. “You always blushed easily, but full body? Holy fuck, Atsumu.” 

And then Suna’s leaning over him, his chest pressed to Atsumu’s back, and one of his hands is on his hips. The other is working Atsumu’s cock frantically, jerking it off in tandem with his thrusts into Atsumu, and Atsumu finally, _finally_ comes with a hoarse scream.

“You’re so _loud_ ,” Suna says, but unlike high school, it doesn’t sound like a reprimand. His tone doesn’t change much, because he’s Suna Rintarou, but Atsumu has known him long enough to pick out the little bits beneath it all. Arousal. Awe. Fondness. _Fuck._

He keeps jerking off Atsumu through his orgasm, keeps fucking into him, and it’s too much, it’s _too much_. Atsumu wants to arch away. Atsumu never wants it to stop. 

“Rin,” he sobs, “it’s too—fuckfuckfuckfuck—”

Suna eases up, letting go of his dick and slowly easing out of him. Atsumu feels disappointed, despite the relief. 

But then Suna grabs his face with his clean hand—the one not covered in Atsumu’s cum, oh my god, Suna’s hand looks really fuckin’ hot, wet and messy because of Atsumu, _from_ Atsumu—and tugs, pulling him away from the mirror. He spins him so they’re facing each other, and Atsumu is pleased to see how dark Suna’s eyes are. How blown out they look. He knows he’ll look a mess, but—

“Clean,” Suna says, and lifts his cum-covered hand.

Atsumu stares at him like he’s insane. “Cl—it’s my cum!” he protests.

“Exactly why you should clean it up,” Suna says evenly. Atsumu scowls. Suna sighs. “Don’t be a baby. I’ll help.”

And then he, keeping his eyes locked on Atsumu’s the entire time, darts out his tongue and swirls it through the cum dripping down his wrist. _Atsumu’s_ cum. It’s the hottest fuckin’ thing he’s ever seen, and he once walked in on Meian fucking Bokuto’s and Sakusa’s friend from the JVA on the meeting room table. 

Suna arches an eyebrow, and Atsumu gets the hint. It’s still kinda gross, but he doesn’t mind being kinda gross, not when Suna’s right there with him, his face across from Atsumu’s, his—

Atsumu groans as Suna’s tongue flicks against his. What the _fuck_.

Suna’s eyes are amused, but he keeps moving up his hand, licking and sucking up the cum. Not one to be outdone, Atsumu does the same. He hesitates, then presses a kiss against the inside of Suna’s wrist. He thinks he hears Suna’s breath hitch, but he keeps going, determined to reach the top of his hand faster. He licks up Suna’s palm, sucking lightly at the skin, while Suna cleans the back of his hand.

He sees Suna licking up his index and middle fingers, his last two left to be cleaned, and Atsumu’s mind goes blank, before an idea springs to mind. He swallows Suna’s fingers, taking them far enough that his mouth meets Suna’s tongue. 

The noise Suna lets out is quiet, but is distinctly a groan. Atsumu grins around his fingers. He drags his mouth up, leaving a trail of wetness from his mouth as he does so. He revels in the obscene _pop_ noise his mouth makes as he moves off Suna’s fingers, and he feels Suna grind his crotch against his thigh.

Atsumu beams at him, pleased by this response. He’s about to crow to him when Suna crowds him against the bench, hands on the mirror on either side of Atsumu’s head, and then leans in to capture his lips in a kiss.

It’s bruising, relentless. Hungry. Suna’s tongue nudges at the seam of Atsumu’s mouth, and Atsumu lets him in, the way he always lets Suna in to whatever part of him he wants. 

Suna’s mouth is hot, his lips warm, and Atsumu likes kissing him. He thinks he’d like it even without the fucking, which is clearly insane, because Suna’s lips are made for smirking or sucking at Atsumu’s skin, his cock or his nipples or the soft skin of his inner thigh, not for normal kisses.

Atsumu likes kissing him, but he loves it when Suna pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and sucks at it, grazing it between his teeth.

Suna finally pulls back, and his eyes are a little wild when he looks at Atsumu, but he looks satisfied. Breathless, even.

“Look at you,” he says, almost awed, and then turns Atsumu by the shoulders to look in the mirror.

Holy shit. 

He looks _wrecked_.

Atsumu licks his lips subconsciously, watching in fascination as his kiss-swollen lips get covered slightly by his tongue. His cheeks are covered in tear tracks, still gleaming wetly under the bathroom lights, and his lashes are glistening. His cheeks are flushed red—fuck, his chest is too, and one of his nipples is redder where Suna’s mouth was, and that’s _really_ fuckin’ hot—and his hair is an absolute mess, some sticking to his scalp from sweat, the rest running wild like someone’s been running their hands through it relentlessly. Which is true, he supposes. 

There’s a tiny bit of cum at the corner of his lips, maybe from when he sucked off Suna’s fingers, or maybe from kissing Suna, if it was still in Suna’s mouth. Atsumu swallows at the thought. 

God, he’s so fucking hard again. 

He glances down at Suna’s dick, which—oh. Yeah, also extremely fucking hard. Actually—

“Did you even cum?” he asks, frowning. It’s a stupid question. Suna’s not wearing a condom, because they’re both fucking stupid, probably, but Atsumu believes Suna’s not doing this with anyone else. Not only because it’d be a dick move to lie about that, especially when they’re friends, but because they’re both really fuckin’ busy, and Suna dislikes picking people up too. Not for the same reasons as Atsumu—most people are fuckin’ scrubs, and he likes to keep his circle to the people who are relevant, a.k.a. volleyball players—but because he’s lazy. Except for when he’s pounding Atsumu’s ass, of course. 

Which is exactly how Atsumu knows Suna didn’t orgasm, because his ass feels sticky, sure, but the slick wetness of lube, thinned a little from how many times Suna dragged his cock up and down Atsumu’s walls, not the thicker stickiness of cum leaking out of him. 

He wants that feeling. It’s disgusting and a mess but it’s also weirdly fucking satisfying, a point of pride, like yeah, he milked that out of Suna. He made the least expressive person he knows come so undone that there’s physical evidence dripping from his asshole, like a badge of honour. 

“I mean, I came down your throat earlier,” Suna says nonchalantly, as if that was what Atsumu was asking. Atsumu flushes a little, remembering Suna holding his face still and fucking into it until Atsumu’s vision blurred with tears, his mouth still greedily sucking. Then he scowls, because he knows Suna was just trying to rile him up with the reminder, that dick. 

“Were you planning on that again?” Atsumu demands, staring at Suna’s dick. He doesn’t mind taking it in his mouth or anything, but, well. Now that he’s thinking about it, he _really_ wants Suna to come in his ass. 

Suna smirks. “I had something else in mind,” he drawls, looking at Atsumu with a gaze that makes him shiver. It’s predatory, the same way he looks from across the net when he’s moving around a blocker who hasn’t worked out how to defeat him yet. The same way he looks when he smirks at Atsumu at the start of a match, challenging him, undoubtedly riling him up both for the game and their after-match ritual. 

It never fails to make Atsumu want to rise to the occasion.

“Oh?” Atsumu says, licking his lips. Suna nods shortly, then tugs him further from the counter, pulling him against him. Their dicks brush against each other, and Atsumu whimpers, unable to stop himself from bucking up against Suna. 

“You’re so fucking reactive,” Suna says, but it doesn’t sound as much like a chastisement as it could, which Atsumu chooses to take as Suna being too horny to really tell him off.

“Uh, who ground their dick against my thigh just because I put their fingers in my mouth?” Atsumu demands, refusing to be painted as the only desperate one here. “You were fuckin’ _gaggin’_ for it.”

“A gag’s not a bad idea,” Suna says, rolling his eyes at Atsumu, but he edges them around so now Atsumu can see the mirror over Suna’s shoulder. “You’re so much prettier when you can’t talk.”

Atsumu glares at him. “Fuck you, I’m hot no matter what,” he declares. “Bet you’d love ta come in me while I talked, you dick, bet I could—”

His back hits the wall, and Suna rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he says. “You’ve never been any good at riling me up.”

Atsumu hadn’t even noticed Suna walking him backwards, what the fuck, but—wait. _Hey_.

“That ain’t true,” he says stubbornly. “Maybe less with words, yeah, but—” He reaches down and takes a hold of Suna’s dick, hearing him hiss in response. “I dunno, Rin, ya feel pretty riled up to me,” he teases, grinning. 

Suna sucks a breath in between his teeth, and drops a fist against the wall, above Atsumu’s shoulder. Atsumu grins wider. 

“Careful,” Suna warns. “Unless you’d rather I come on you than in you.”

Atsumu immediately releases his grip, though not without pouting a little. It’s all give and take with Suna, Atsumu thinks. Gives Atsumu the satisfaction of knowing he probably _could_ make Suna get off just with a few more ministrations but deprives him the pleasure of having that power by appealing to his more selfish desires: he wants to get fucked, and he wants Suna to come inside him, and he wants to come from Suna’s cock. Fuck. 

“You’re cute when you pout,” Suna says, and Atsumu immediately scrunches up his nose, ready to protest, no matter his flaming cheeks, when Suna ducks his head and captures Atsumu’s lips with his again. 

This one’s slower than last time. Softer, though it’s not tender. Just… sensuous. Like Suna’s exploring Atsumu’s mouth with the same unflinching curiosity he eyes opposing blockers with on the court. It’s a steady build in the pit of Atsumu’s stomach, heat flickering into something stronger, less controllable, and he can’t help the way he moans in Suna’s mouth, the way he rolls his hips to try ease the pressure of his arousal.

Suna curls his hands around Atsumu’s thighs. Atsumu gets the hint, and, without disconnecting their mouths, pushes up from the ground. Suna lifts him easily, pressing him against the wall, and Atsumu wraps his legs around Suna’s waist. His dick sits between them, aching, but even more than he wants Suna to pay attention to it, he wants _Suna’s_ dick inside him.

“ _Rin_ ,” he whines into Suna’s mouth, and Suna swears. Atsumu pulls back and gives him a lazy smirk. Suna can say what he likes about how Atsumu’s never been as good at working him up—might even be true, at least when it comes to making him squawk or sputter—but Atsumu knows the truth. Knows that when he smirks like this, Suna’s instinct is to kiss it off his face, or maybe fuck it off until Atsumu’s moaning. Knows that if he talks enough, grins cheekily, when he’s all open and waiting like this, Suna’ll roll his eyes in fond exasperation, but rise to the challenge anyway.

“You just want to get fucked again,” Suna says, huffing a laugh.

“Yep,” Atsumu says blithely, absolutely shameless. “Ya gonna do anythin’ about that, or…?”

Suna raises an eyebrow. “Or?”

Atsumu gives him a sunny grin. “I mean, there’s the whole team somewhere,” he says. “Maybe Iwaizumi-san wants a go.”

Suna snorts. “Please. You’re so fucking horny right now that you couldn’t walk outside without coming,” he says, but his grip gets a little tighter. Atsumu beams, satisfied. Suna’s not really the jealous type, not even really the type to mark his territory—unlike Sakusa, apparently; Atsumu had almost choked on his tea when his brother’s shirt had slipped off his shoulder one morning and exposed a fuckin’ _trail_ of bitemarks—but every little inch of want Atsumu manages to wring out of Suna—every little thing that screams _mine_ —feels like a victory.

Then Suna releases one of his legs, and Atsumu frowns. He hooks his legs tighter so that he doesn’t fall, and Suna flicks an amused look at him.

“Hold on,” he says, and then he wraps his free hand around Atsumu’s aching dick, and Atsumu shudders. Suna sets up a rough pace, pausing only to spit in his palm and wrap it back around Atsumu’s dick, the slickness making it slide easier. His grip isn’t loose, it’s almost _too_ tight, but it’s not quite there, and Atsumu feels so fucking hot for it that his head’s starting to spin. It’s all he can focus on to keep his legs wrapped around Suna, and he lets his head drop forward to rest on Suna’s shoulder.

Suna swirls his thumb across the head of Atsumu’s dick, then presses down, and Atsumu comes with a loud wail.

He’d be more embarrassed about it if he hadn’t been worked up again ever since Suna started licking his cum off his hands, if it hadn’t been a while since he’d done this. If it wasn’t Suna, who’s seen Atsumu unravelled before, who’s practiced in the art of making Atsumu come undone.

If it wasn’t Suna, looking at him fondly. His hand is moving around Atsumu’s oversensitive dick, and Atsumu mumbles in protest, but when he glances down at Suna’s hand, his brain completely whites out.

Because Suna isn’t touching him to be a dick, or to keep pushing him into over-stimulation.

No, he’s capturing as much of Atsumu’s cum in his palm as he can, scooping it up off of their stomachs and Atsumu’s dick.

“Wh—” Atsumu begins, but then Suna removes his hand and moves it… under Atsumu? He hears a familiar sound, skin on skin with something slick between. His eyes widen.

Suna’s using Atsumu’s _cum_ to lube himself up to fuck Atsumu.

Atsumu feels his dick twitch, somehow, and he can’t even be incredulous. Fuck. Only Suna Rintarou.

“You good?” Suna asks. Atsumu is pleased to discover he sounds short of breath, like he’s also way more turned on by all of this than his countenance would suggest. Good. Atsumu would throttle him if he made Atsumu to be this desperate to be fucked without being equally as into it.

Then his mind is wandering to Suna’s pretty neck, and how it would look with his hands around it, and he has to shudder a breath. Not the time.

“Always,” he says instead. “Hurry up.”

Suna rolls his eyes, but he guides himself in with his cum-slicked hand, and, holy shit, isn’t that the hottest fuckin’ mental image? Atsumu feels like he’s going to pass out, so he leans his head back, resting it against the wall.

And then he can feel Suna’s dick slowly breaching his entrance. He’s still stretched out from earlier—Atsumu kind of can’t believe they’re on round two and he’s _already_ come twice—but he’s still a little sensitive from just before, so he sucks in a breath, hissing a little.

“Hurry up, he said,” Suna murmurs, but he pauses in his movements, because for all he likes to make Atsumu’s life hell, he’d never hurt him. Atsumu doesn’t know if he wants to kiss him for it, or hit him.

“I’m not _sore_ , ya fuck, I’m just sensitive,” Atsumu informs him irritably. “Fuckin’ _go_.”

Suna raises an eyebrow, but acquiesces, pressing in further with a low groan. Atsumu can feel his dick dragging against his walls, can feel the stickiness of the cum that coated it—and then he thinks about how that’s his _own_ cum, that Suna is going to be fucking his own cum into him, and he gasps.

Okay, _well_ , there’s a kink he never fuckin’ knew he had. Thanks a lot, Sunarin.

Suna moves his hand, his dick far enough in now that he’s unlikely to slip out, and puts it back beneath Atsumu’s unsupported thigh. Atsumu sighs, sagging against Suna in relief, and Suna chuckles.

“Tired?” he taunts, and Atsumu is about to retort, but then Suna shifts the angle a little, and his dick drags against Atsumu’s prostate, and Atsumu lets out a guttural moan, mouthing uselessly at Suna’s shoulder.

God, Suna’s still not even fully inside, what the _fuck_.

The noises being made are objectively disgusting, almost a squelching sound, but Atsumu can’t even find it anything other than hot. _Fuck_. He cannot believe he’s so turned on from Suna fucking into him with his own cum, but apparently that’s a kink he has now. Atsumu can’t think about that too much, though, because he’s too busy moving his mouth against Suna’s skin, whining out the feeling of Suna’s dick rubbing against his walls. He’s still loose from earlier, but there’s still a stretching feeling as Suna pushes into him, until, finally—

“God,” Suna says, a low thing, almost like a prayer now that he’s fully sheathed inside Atsumu. That’s how Atsumu chooses to take it, anyway.

“Y’can call me Atsumu-sama if ya really want,” he says breathlessly, chuckling a little, and then gasping as the slight shift from his laughter makes Suna’s dick move within him. _Fuck_ , he’s just so _deep_ —Atsumu has no idea why they’ve never done this position before if it means Suna can get this far into him, holy shit, it’s so fucking hot, he feels so fucking _full_. Unbidden, he can feel his eyes starting to water, and he shifts his head, slotting his chin over Suna’s shoulder. As _if_ he’s going to let that fuck know he’s making him tear up. Atsumu would never hear the end of it. Absolutely not.

Unfortunately, in this new position, he’s right opposite the mirror.

He’s a little too dazed to notice at first, because Suna _finally_ starts moving, half thrusting up and pressing Atsumu harder against the wall, half using his grip on Atsumu’s thighs to pull him _down_ onto his cock, and it’s – overwhelming, _so_ fucking overwhelming that Atsumu barely knows what he’s babbling anymore, some shit about needing Suna to drive his dick even deeper, as if that’s even _possible_ , but eventually he tilts his head up enough that his gaze catches on something gold, and he blinks.

It’s his hair.

He gazes at their reflection in fascination. Earlier, he couldn’t see anything until after, but now—

Now he can see how completely fucking _blown_ his eyes are, dark and needy and wanting. Now he can see how red his lips are, almost raw from how much he’s been biting them, on top of Suna bruising them with his kisses earlier.

Now he can see Suna driving his hips into him, can see the way Suna’s ass tightens every time he thrusts up, can see the way Suna’s arms are flexed to hold him up. Now he can see Suna’s back muscles move, the same view Suna had of him when he had Atsumu’s face shoved up against the glass and was running his hands across Atsumu’s back as it arched after each of Suna’s thrusts.

Experimentally, he runs his fingers across Suna’s back, doing his best to dig filed nails into his skin. Suna swears, a huff of breath more than a word, but Atsumu pays him no mind. He’s too busy marvelling at the way Suna’s muscles ripple in the mirror under his ministrations, the way he can watch his fingers playing over Suna’s skin, strumming him to whatever tune he wants.

It’s heady. It’s exhilarating. It’s _really_ fucking hot.

“Atsumu,” Suna says, and he can’t tell if it’s a warning, or just a word. Just something that spilled out of Suna’s lips, the same way kisses sometimes spill from Atsumu’s when they’re like this.

With that in mind, Atsumu starts mouthing at Suna’s neck, keeping his eye fixed on the mirror. God, it’s so fucking hot to watch himself come undone, to watch himself suck his claim into every inch of Suna’s skin he can reach, to watch Suna’s hips drive up, fucking into Atsumu.

Suna speeds up, his thrusts getting rougher—more erratic. Like he’s close.

Atsumu clenches his ass intentionally, rolling his hips, and Suna lets out a groan.

“Fucking tease,” he mutters. “I’m going to come right in your ass,” he threatens, and Atsumu just laughs breathlessly.

“Promises, promises,” he says, smirking, and then he sinks his teeth into Suna’s skin. Suna shudders— _close_ , he seems _so_ fucking close, but not there yet, not _quite_ —but doesn’t come, so Atsumu decides to take it a step further.

He leans back from Suna’s shoulder, dropping his head back against the wall again, and grins at Suna. Then he takes his fingers and shoves them in his own mouth. He opens it, showing Suna how his tongue swirls around the two fingers, lapping at and laving over the skin. He winks for good measure.

Suna shudders again, then comes with a cry, resting his forehead against Atsumu’s.

Atsumu can feel his cum filling him up, can feel it getting fucked deeper into him as Suna fucks him through for a few more thrusts, before finally just sinking into him and staying there as his last spurts of cum emerge. No, are _milked_ out, Atsumu thinks. He did this, he earned this, he made this happen. Suna’s cum in his ass is sticky and gross, mingling with whatever remnants of Atsumu’s cum remained in there from when Suna used it to lube up his dick, but it’s _his_. He deserves it, like a badge of honour.

He came not too long ago, but he’s achingly hard now. He wants _someone_ to pay attention to his throbbing dick, whether it’s Suna or Atsumu himself.

Suna slowly pulls out. Atsumu whimpers a little at the loss— _god_ , he’s so fucking hard—and then sucks in a breath at the cool air. He’s been so used to being _full_ , to having Suna’s dick inside of him, to having all that warm cum plugging him up, that he can’t help but frown a little at the sudden temperature shift.

He feels some of Suna’s cum—possibly Atsumu’s too, he thinks, and grows harder; _god_ , this is a weird fucking kink, thanks Rin—trail out of him, down towards his thigh.

Suna puts him down, and his knees almost buckle.

“Baby,” Suna says, rolling his eyes, but he catches Atsumu anyway. He kneels down, much to Atsumu’s surprise, and then leverages Atsumu’s weight so he’s essentially leaning on Suna’s shoulder. He lets himself fall a little, slumping slightly over him, and thanks the universe that they saw fit to give Suna broad enough shoulders to take Atsumu, as well as enough skill to end up on the National Team. EJP Raijin are fine, honestly, but Atsumu doubts their training’s strenuous enough to prepare Suna for all this, or else they’d have a better chance at beating MSBY Black Jackals during the season, wouldn’t they?

Then Suna’s fingers, now that Atsumu’s inability to hold himself up has been dealt with, are fucking his cum back into Atsumu’s ass, and Atsumu suddenly can’t continue his volleyball train of thought.

“Fuck,” he gasps, and then bucks his hips against Suna’s chest with a guttural whine when Suna brushes over his prostate.

“ _There_ we go,” Suna says, sounding amused, that fucking dick, and then he’s pressing even harder against it? What the fuck? He keeps thrusting his fingers mercilessly, pushing the cum deeper into Atsumu and brushing his fingers over his prostate each time. At one point, he crooks both his fingers and digs them against Atsumu’s prostate, and he fucking _howls_ , writhing against Suna’s torso.

“ _Please_ ,” Atsumu begs. He can feel the tears streaming down his face, the drool pooling at the side of his mouth, the wanton way he’s flailing against Suna, but he can’t help it. It feels so fucking good, and when he thinks about how Suna is pushing his cum further into Atsumu, as if to make sure it never escapes, buries itself into him forever— _fuck_.

“You sound so hot like this,” Suna muses, still fucking his fingers into him relentlessly. “What would all your fans think? One of Japan’s most beloved athletes, handsome and talented, reduced to tears in the training gym’s bathroom by two fingers.”

He punctuates that with a particularly targeted thrust, deliberately dragging his fingers across the prostate, and _twisting_ them as he does so. Atsumu comes for the third time.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Atsumu cries out, shaking. “ _Rin_ …”

His cum spurts across Suna’s chest, trapped against his chest and stomach, and Atsumu slumps down, slipping from his position across Suna’s shoulder. Suna, still kneeling, catches him by the waist and pulls him close, rearranging their legs so that Atsumu can sit on his thighs, Atsumu’s own legs extended out past Suna’s middle. Atsumu drops his head onto Suna’s shoulder, too tired to care about Suna feeling his tears and realising that he made Atsumu cry from how fucking good it all was.

Suna runs a hand comfortingly over his back, which is surprisingly affectionate from him—or for either of them, really, because Atsumu’s always given generously, but Osamu’s always said his brand of affection doesn’t really count as normal—but definitely welcome. Atsumu hums contentedly into his skin. Suna lets him.

“Hey,” Atsumu murmurs after a few moments, feeling completely fucked out, but still enough himself to prod Suna lightly in the side.

“Hm?” Suna hums, flicking him a glance.

Atsumu manages a wry smirk, spreading his legs a little and indicating the mess of cum across his thighs, still leaking out of his ass. “Clean it up.”

Suna stares at him for a second. Then his lips curve into a wicked smile, eyes gleaming. “Okay,” he says, licking his lips. “Let’s see if we can get you to four.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on my nsfw twitter [here](https://twitter.com/KUNlKAGE/) or on my main twitter [here!](https://twitter.com/kurokenns/)
> 
> twitter post for this fic is [here!](https://twitter.com/kurokenns/status/1342108001025462275?s=20)
> 
> yeah suna being on the jnt came out while i was writing it lmao so. sneaky reference there ahaha
> 
> IRIS DREW SUNA DURING THE.... hand-cleaning (lmfao) scene!! you can find it [here](https://twitter.com/kuehpng/status/1343233133869592577?s=20)


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